She came towards me—her gold hair flaming in the sunset light.
"Why are you so angry with me?" she said. "Be reasonable. What else could I do?"
"I don't know."
"Would it have been right not to tell you?"
"I don't know. I only know that you've put the sun out, and I haven't got used to the dark yet."
"Believe me," she said, coming still nearer to me, and laying her hands in the lightest light touch on my shoulders, "believe me, she never loved you."
There was a softness in her tone that irritated and stimulated me. I moved gently back, and her hands fell by her sides.
"I beg your pardon," I said. "I have behaved very badly. You were quite right to come, and I am not ungrateful. Will you post a letter for me?"
I sat down and wrote—
"I give you back your freedom. The only gift of mine that can please you now.
"Arthur."